Place of Secrets
by NinjaStripes
Summary: Her name given to her after years of being nameless, Dirthan kept to herself, rarely speaking to others of her clan, keeping all that she knew to herself but actively sought knowledge from within and outside the clan, branding her an outsider. When the Mage Templar war began to affect Clan Lavellan, their keeper sent her to spy on the Conclave. That is the day everything changed.
1. Prologue

Like ants, soldiers marched in perfect order never breaking the line; swords painted on their armor and shields, footsteps that beat the ground like a drum. Another line followed next to them; robes flapping in the cold wind of the Frostback Mountains, staffs flashing to provide warmth to their users.

The warring sides of a rebellion marched together to a single place off in the distance: The Temple of Sacred Ashes. It was the most holy ground of their world and the only place all people treated as sacred and was why Divine Justinia V had chosen this place for the conclave. Both mages and templars recognized the temple as holy ground and would treat it as such.

The day was silent. Only the howling wind and the drum of the templars' march echoed throughout the mountains. The tension was heavy as the opposing sides marched so close together, crushing their ribs with unseen forces. Suddenly, for a split second, the drums ceased and the wind was silenced. Then everything went wrong.

A green, blinding light overpowered the sun. An echo louder than a thousand cannons shook the heavens. Men were thrown back with the force of a god. And an explosion made the world tremble.


	2. Chapter 1

She lay there face down, unconscious. Her mercenary armor covered in mud and dust. A moan escaped her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered, tickling her cheeks. Her arms trembled as she pushed herself off the ground. It took some effort, but she soon made it to her feet.

A sharp and painful throb in her head made her flinch. When the pain was gone she looked around. There was nothing but a barren wasteland surrounded by darkness. Then a bright light stung her eyes and she turned her head away. Shielding her eyes, she turned to see what could cast a light as bright as the sun. In the distance on a tall hill, she saw a figure radiating light. To escape the darkness, the young woman instinctively made her way to the light. Through slime covered crags and sharp rocks, she forced her aching body to escape the darkness.

She was close, close enough to make out the features of the figure. It was a woman wearing a chantry head dress. Before the young woman could make out more, a blood curdling screech rung her ears. Behind her was a horde of spiders, giant and grotesque, crawling their way towards her. Panicked, she ran to the woman with great haste. In her haste, she slipped and fell to her knees. Quickly she started to crawl and claw her way to the top of the hill.

The glowing woman urgently offered her hand to help. The young woman desperately reached out, the spiders getting closer. Their high screeches stung her ears. As their hands grew closer, a green light spewed from the young woman's hand. Then everything went white and the air grew cold and silent.

A hole in the air, leading to someplace dark, floated in the middle of smoking ruins. It pulsed, gaining the attention of nearby soldiers. They approached cautiously with weapons drawn. Then the hole grew bright. An elven woman stumbled out of the hole then fell to her knees and a second later she fell to the ground. Behind her inside the hole, a woman stood and then disappeared when the hole closed. Soldiers surrounded the unconscious woman and debated what to do.

* * *

In a small village not far from the temple, two women stand in a small room. One with olive skin, short black hair, and sharp angular features. She wore heavy armor and her years of battle showed in her scarred face and stern gaze. The other woman was cloaked, a hood covering her bright red hair and casting a shadow over her soft face. Her bright green eyes were clouded in grief and confusion. They were Cassandra and Leliana, the right and left hands of the Divine. Cassandra busied herself with coordinating soldiers to combat the demons spewing from the breach and Leliana waited for word from her scouts.

The room's door creaked open as a scout marched in. She saluted to her superiors. "Spymaster, there's been a…" the scout paused for a second to find the right word to describe her report, "Development."

"Report!" Leliana ordered.

"We found a survivor in the temple. Thing is, she walked out of a rift, like the ones opening in the area. And she has a strange glowing mark on her hand."

"A survivor?" Leliana was shocked. "How could anyone survive such an explosion?"

"And what of this strange mark? What is it?" Cassandra cut in.

"We don't know. But we have noticed that it reacts to the breach," the scout answered.

"It could be what caused the explosion and the breach in the sky," Leliana stated. "Or could be the result of the explosion, just like the breach," Cassandra pointed out. "What of the survivor now?" Cassandra asked.

"She is in the holding cells being treated by Adan," the scout answered.

"Treated?" Leliana asked.

"When we found her, she was greatly injured and delirious with fever. We think the mark on her hand is killing her as well."

"Do whatever you must to keep her alive. We must have answers!" Cassandra demanded.

The scout saluted and then left while another scout entered. He saluted. "Spymaster, Lady Montilyet has arrived," he reported. "Good," Leliana said, "Return to your post." The scout saluted then left. "Someone you know?" Cassandra asked. "If we are to follow the Divine's last order, we must have political influence. She is well versed in politics as well as a good friend. We can trust her." With that, Leliana left the small room to greet their new ambassador.

The small room opened up into a large hall. Symbols of the Andrastian religion were everywhere you looked from the tapestries on the walls to smallest statues on the tables. The chantry of Haven acted as their base of operations in combating the breach as it was the closest thing to a stronghold they had near the temple. When one exited the Chantry as Leliana did, they would see wooden houses surrounding the area, the same ones that stood when Leliana first came here looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes with the Hero of Fereldon. Back then, it was an eery place, after the cultists and the high dragon were killed, pilgrims started settling and it became a cheery and peaceful village. Now it is chaotic, everyone scrambling to help or find help, and the breach in the sky blocked out the sun and casted its sickening green glow.

Josephine, the ambassador who has come to help, would have been pointed to the tavern. Not one of Josephine's favorite places to spend her time, but it was the only building not currently being used during the crisis. Leliana made her way there quickly, shuffling through the crowds of soldiers and pilgrims. When she opened the tavern door, the smell of light alcohol wafted into her nose. "It's a shame," she thought, "the townspeople were drinking in hope here not too long ago. Now that hope is gone." All it took was a quick scan of the room for Leliana to spot Josephine. She sat at a small table in the corner of the room wearing silk ruffles and blue shirt vest. While she was dressed quite fancily, it was merely a part of her job: she had to show that she was professional as well as not offend any dignitaries that she met.

Leliana silently strode across the room and grasped her friend's shoulder to get her attention. Josephine jumped in her chair and gasped. "Leliana," she sighed with relief, "You need a bell, I swear." Leliana giggled, "Sorry Jose, old habits die hard. Thank you for coming all the way here, and for even coming at all after…" Leliana stopped there. Josephine sighed, "I already heard. That kind of news travels fast and there's already news of other -what do you call them, rifts?- they're all over Thedas and demons are spewing out of those too." Josephine sighed, "Just when we thought this war might be over, everything gets worse. Thedas seems to have the worst luck."

"Lucky for us, we're strong. We'll get through this, Jose," Leliana assured. "Speaking of which, what is my part in getting us through this? I'm going to assume you and Cassandra will still follow the Divine's last orders," Josephine questioned. "We will, though the immediate situation must be dealt with first before that happens," Leliana explained.

As Leliana was talking, one of her agents entered the tavern and approached her with a feeling of urgency. "Spymaster, there is a situations that requires your attention," he reported. Leliana looked back to Josephine who smirked, " A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do."

"So it would seem," Leliana giggled, then got out of her chair and left her with, "Go to the chantry, I'll meet with you later." She led the way out of the tavern with her agent following next to her. He knew to speak without her saying so. "There's an elven mage at the entrance of the village. He surrendered his staff to Chantry forces and has cooperated with us. He says he wants to help, but he wishes to study the prisoner and one of the smaller rifts that has opened up nearby."

"An apostate?"

"Technically all mages are apostates now, Spymaster."

That was true. Still, it was odd that an apostate would willingly cooperate with the Chantry.

"Where is he now?"

"In the Chantry, my lady."

* * *

The elven apostate sat on a stool in small room in the Chantry. A simple wooden table with a burning candle in the middle stood in front of him. The only one keeping him company was the guard beside the door. The candle light lit up his features. He was an elven man who looked to be of forty years wearing tattered clothes with a pack indicating that he was a traveler. His thin brows furrowed in thought as he watched the candle burned. His thoughts were interrupted with the door opened and a cloaked human woman with bright red hair entered the room. She sat in the stool across from him. "I am Leliana, and I am told that you wish to help us."

"I do," he stated, "And I am called Solas."


	3. Chapter 2

Three hours past, hours spent questioning the elven man calling himself Solas until he was allowed to leave and see the prisoner. Leliana exited the room as well but went back to the small room at the back of the Chantry to tell Cassandra of what had passed. When she entered, however, Cassandra was not there, but Cullen was. Cullen commanded the Chantry's forces doing whatever he could to keep the demons at bay.

"Where is Cassandra?" Leliana asked. Cullen, who was studying a large map placed on a huge table in the middle of the room, turned to Leliana. "She left about two hours ago. Something happened out in the field and she left to help. Why? What is it?"

"I just needed to inform her of our new guest."

"A guest?"

"An elven apostate, but clearly not Dalish. He wishes to help, and from all the details about the Breach and the Fade, he is our best bet to fixing this mess." Cullen looked concerned, something he retained from his years as a templar. "Don't worry, Cullen. My people will keep an eye on him," Leliana assured. Before Cullen could respond, a soldier burst into the room covered in sweat. "Commander, the main force needs reinforcements, the Breach _grew _and then more demons spilled out." Cullen quickly marched out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Leliana was left alone in the room. If she couldn't tell Cassandra in person, then she would have to write a letter. She acquired a piece of paper, and quill and ink and wrote:

Cassandra,

I understand our first order of business must be to investigate this bizarre breach in the sky and protect people from the demons descending. While my search continues, I wish to draw your attention to a new arrival at our camp: an elven apostate calling himself Solas.

Solas entered the camp voluntarily, surrendering his staff to Chantry forces without protest. He is not Dalish and says that he has never been part of the Circle, claiming instead to have studied magic peacefully on his own... particularly magic tied to the Fade.

While I suspect you will be reluctant to accept the help of an apostate, Solas did come to us freely. Witnesses saw him in a nearby village at the time of the blast, so he was likely not responsible for what happened at the Conclave. However, he has described the effects of the Breach in enough detail to convince me that he knows more about the Fade than anyone else present.

Solas has requested permission to study the lone survivor and one of the smaller rifts, in hopes of finding a way to seal the Breach. He has correctly guessed that it is growing and believes it will destroy the entire world unless we find a way to stop it. Unless you object, I will allow him his studies - under proper observation, of course.

Leliana

She folded the letter and called the guard into the room. When he entered, Leliana ordered him to deliver the letter the Cassandra on the frontlines. The guard did as he was told and ran towards his destination.

* * *

Below the Chantry sits the prison cells, where the golden brown bricks dull to a dismal gray, the walls close in and water drips from the ceiling from an unknown source. The smell of standing water hits Solas as he and a guard enter the depressing place. From the stairs, they enter a long hallway, and the hallway opens up to the large stone room with cells caged with cold iron bars and a guard at every corner. In the middle of the room lay an elven woman covered in sweat and clamped in irons. With her was another man, a human, in robes trying to keep her still. Solas joined the man and knelt down next to him. "Are you my replacement?" the man asked. "No," Solas answered, "I am here to examine her for any evidence of what caused the Breach. I am no healer, but I'll help if I can." The man sighed, "I really wish they would have gotten someone more qualified to do this."

Ignoring the man's grumbling, Solas examined the young woman closer. Like all elves, she had a small lithe frame and pointed ears. Like a small child, she had an impish face with a delicate bone structure, a small upturned nose and pursed lips. When the man opened her eyes to check the dilations of her pupils, he saw that her eyes were bright green with specks of fiery orange around her now very large pupils. Her short, messy black hair and dark vallasline contrasted with her pale skin.

A bright green light flashed from the young woman's palm causing her to moan and clench her teeth in pain and causing Solas to examine her palm closer. He took her hand in his and it flashed again and he felt the mark spreading and her life draining away. "The mark is thrumming with unknown magic," Solas stated. The man next to him laughed a sad laugh and held his face in his hands. "Maker's breath, I wish we had a templar here."

"I must use magic to stop the mark from spreading," Solas stated. He peeked over his shoulder at the guards behind him, looking for any indication that they heard him. What he got, however, was a young woman, who clearly wasn't a guard, emerge from the shadows of the hallway behind him. She gave him a nod, indicating that he was not going to be attacked while saving the prisoner's life. Like all mages, he focused himself to summon power and refined it to the specifications he thought were needed -though treating something as strange as the mark would take the whole day if not several- then mentally prepared himself for the long hours of magic. If need be, he had decided to consult his friends for help should he need it. His hands began to glow radiating a faint blue light, and with her hand still in his, he cusped it and began his long hours of study and healing.

Meanwhile, in the demon infested field not far from Haven, Cassandra and two patrols fought hard against the demons spewing from the small rift near the forests. Salty sweat dripped from their eyebrows as demons came one after another pushing the soldiers to their limits. Cassandra, being the most experienced and trained, was slashing through demons easily, rolling to avoid strong blows and blocking to create openings. Soon, the demons were pushed back, giving the soldiers a chance to rest and regroup. As she was just catching her breath, the courier delivering Leliana's letter made it safely to Cassandra. He saluted as he approached her and handed her the letter stating, "Urgent letter from the Spymaster," and then waited for Cassandra's orders. Quickly reading the letter, Cassandra's brow furrowed the more she read. "Back to your post!" Cassandra ordered, stuffing the letter into her knapsack, "I am returning to Haven."

* * *

Many hours passed until the human man who was treating the prisoner left and then many more hours passed, during which Solas studied the mark on the survivor's hand, trying to determine how it got there and how to stop it from killing the young woman who lay before him. His eyes closed, he tried to contact his friends, the spirits in the Fade. For hours he tried to find them, but the Breach had either torn them from the Fade or had scared them away. Solas opened his eyes, returning from the Fade. His brows furrowed with concern for their safety and hoped for the later. The woman's hand vibrated violently in his, the mark lighting up his face and making the woman groan painfully. He might not be able to determine the origins of the mark, but he was able to use his magic to stop the mark from spreading... For now, at least.

The sound of a door slamming open echoed throughout the Chantry prisons followed by a heated dialogue between two women, one of which Solas recognized as the woman who had questioned him, the other had a more robust accent. "Cassandra, this is unnecessary. He is under constant surveillance. There is no need for you to-,"

"I have to see for myself!" The two women emerged from the hallway's shadows. Indeed, one of them was the woman who questioned Solas. The other woman, Cassandra, he had never met before. She crossed her arms and Solas could feel her disapproving glare on his back. "What progress have you made, mage?"

"Ah," Solas thought, "one of those."

"I have been able to stop the mark from killing the survivor, if that counts as progress to you," he responded, letting the sarcasm reveal itself more in the words than in the tone. Cassandra frowned but said nothing of the sarcasm. "What of the mark itself," Leliana intervened, "Have you figured out what it is?"

"All I've been able to figure out is that it reacts to the Breach itself. Whatever caused the Breach also put the mark on her hand."

Cassandra's frown loosened, but it remained. She had wished for more, but this would have to do. Leliana cleared her throat, prompting Cassandra to let the matter rest for now. Cassandra uncrossed her arms, but left Solas a warning in the guise of of an order: "I expect to hear of more progress tomorrow," and then disappeared back into the dark hallway.

Leliana let out her relief with a sigh as she felt the tension leave the room along with Cassandra. "Now," Solas huffed, "If you will excuse me." With that, he turned his attention back to refining the magic he had used to stop the mark from spreading. Leliana took the cue to leave but told the guards to watch him, not caring that Solas could hear.

* * *

Two days went by and Cassandra was growing impatient, an impatience that was as calm as an active volcano due to the growing and ever present Breach and the stress of keeping an armed force, whose description of flimsy was a generous one, on the offensive against the demons that spewed out of the Breach and the smaller rifts the Breach birthed across Thedas. Any new information came from the healer who saw to the prisoner, the only helpful information being that it looked like the prisoner would soon awaken, but nothing from Solas, nothing that she herself had not heard or suspected already anyway.

Since his report on the prisoner's mark Solas had not come up with any new information. Even close examinations of the rifts yielded little and useless information, according to Cassandra at least. The information that Solas did present answered none of the questions she deemed important: what caused the Breach; who was responsible; could it be sealed. Solas himself appeared to be growing impatient and irritated. Cassandra's constant hounding weared on his nerves. He would have said that her breathing down his neck wouldn't help the results if there had been any to begin with.

The one small respite he had was when a dwarf calling himself Varric approached him and offered to be a listening ear, something Solas refused but accepted his company none the less. Varric told Solas the story of how all this came to pass: His adventures with Hawke and their companions; the expedition into the Deep Roads ; The Qunari invasion; Anders blowing up the Kirkwall chantry; Hawk siding with the mages; Orisno resorting to blood magic; a red lyrium idol driving Knight-Commander Meredith insane; Varric got a little creative in telling the story of Hawke and Fenris' relationship. Solas enjoyed the diversion that Varric offered and even chuckled when he shared his experience with Cassandra.

Solas felt the presence of the Leliana's agents wherever they went, constantly nagging at the back of his mind. It would seem that even Leliana is starting to consider that Solas was overstaying his welcome. "Don't let them worry you, Chuckles. I'll protect you." Surprised, Solas asked, "Chuckles?"

"Yeah, after your sunny disposition and your cheery sense of humor." Solas quickly learned that Varric had an ironic sense of humor.

The gates of Haven burst open and dozens of people, wounded and dying, sought help within Haven. They weren't dressed in armor or armed with any kind of weapon, just pilgrims who got caught in the Breach's wake. "Refugees," Varric noted, "As if the war in Orlais wasn't enough." Solas looked closer. Indeed, about half of the refugees wore Orleisian clothing ranging from glistening gowns and pantaloons to simple patchwork skirts and vests. All looked weary and down hearted, but a newfound misery had brought wails and sobbing from people desperate for any sign of hope.

The two men heard a commotion coming from the Chantry up the hill. "Wonder what other party games the Maker has planned for us," Varric quipped. Whatever comments Solas had he kept to himself as he followed Varric up the hill.

When they arrived, they found soldiers wrestling a group of men to the ground. Cassandra was among the soldiers and she quickly took command of the situation. She drew her sword and aimed it at one of the men's throats, its tip grazing the hairs on his neck. The men fell silent and the calm before a storm hung over all present turning lungs into lead. "Return to your duties!" Cassandra ordered, "And if I ever catch you trying to kill the prisoner again, you will be executed on the spot!"

"She killed the divine!" one of the other men shouted. "She needs to pay for what she did!" another added. "And she will," Cassandra interjected, "When we question her and we've deiced her punishment. Now go!" Her tone left no room for argument. The men left grumbling and discouraged. "Let me guess," Varric started, "They thought they could sneak past a Seeker and dozens of soldiers and assassinate the prisoner."

"Indeed," Cassandra answered, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice, "As you can see, they were not successful."

"Speaking of which, how is our infamous friend doing?"

"Nothing that concerns you, dwarf."

Varric was about to continue the banter when the Breach pulsed again and a man ran up to Cassandra looking disheveled and more than a little uneasy. He had short blond hair, rough features and he was clad in armor and dark red cloth resembling a lion's mane. "Cullen," Cassandra addressed. "Cassandra, rifts are opening all around and the waves of demons has grown too much. We need assistance!" Cullen reported. He sounded desperate and drained but ready to fight. Cassandra's eyes stopped on Solas and Varric and they had a pretty good idea what was going to come next. "You two: I want you to support the troops in holding back the demons. Don't come back until every last one of them is destroyed!" she commanded. Varric was going to argue, bad idea as it may have been, but gave up when Cullen and command of troops ran past him and followed them. Solas followed, seeing opportunity. There was nothing more he could do here and he did not trust Cassandra with his life. He would wait and look for the chance to escape.

Cassandra was about to follow when someone grabbed her arm from behind. She turned to see Leliana. "The prisoner is awake," she said. That stopped any thoughts Cassandra had dead in their tracks.


	4. Chapter 3

The smell of mold and standing water stung her nose and what little light there was in the prison made the back of her eyes pound. She knelt on the ground and kept her head down to escape the torches and let her eyes adjust. When the pounding subsided she blinked and squinted, feeling the weight of days worth of sleep on her eyelids.

A green flicker caught her attention. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone though it did not stop the young elf from searching for it. A small draft washed through the stone room freezing her left hand. She investigated, swearing to herself that she remembered wearing gloves. There was a glove on her right hand, but her left was bare. She then noticed she was wearing shackles. She could not recall anything that she might have done to be arrested, or being arrested at all. The last thing she remembered was attending the conclave on her Keeper's orders, an order she was happy to receive.

The young elf investigated her bare hand further, staring at it from all angles. Her hand suddenly burned like someone had stabbed her palm with a white hot dagger and a fluorescent green flash erupted from her palm. She gasped in pain. That was when she heard a door slam open and saw two women enter the prison. One was wearing heavy armor and had dark skin and rough, angular features. The other wore leathers and a hood covered most of her red hair.

She recognized the look in their eyes; it was the same look she saw in wolves' eyes when she stumbled upon them: not a predator eyeing its prey, but a predator glowering at an intruder in its territory.

The young elf heard swords sheath and glanced around to find many heavily armed soldiers surrounding her and grew concerned that she had not sensed them earlier. The hooded woman stopped a couple feet away, but the armored woman circled around the shackled elf, the feeling of subtle panic raised hairs on the back of the young elf's neck. She, like any other sane person, became frighteningly alert when they sensed a threat at their back.

The armored woman leaned in from behind, the young elf felt the woman's body heat on her ear. "Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." Her breath was hot and her accent was rough, and the young elf could hear a restrained growl at the back of the woman's throat. The body heat disappeared from the young elf's ear and caught the armored woman circling back around in her peripheral vision. The armored woman's voiced changed from threatening to pained as she continued. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead." The feeling of being threatened surprisingly intensified as the armored woman stood in front of her and the young elf caught the rage burning inside the armored woman return, the growl in her throat along with it. "Except for you," she finished.

The armored woman could have sworn she saw the elf's ears perk up. The elf felt her heart breaking. "What do you mean everyone's dead?" Her voice was soft, a hint of the Ferelden accent escaping her lips. The armored woman roughly grabbed the elf's hand in a grip that could, if used carelessly, horribly twist her wrist. "Explain _this_!" the woman growled. As if to address itself, the mark on the elf's hand flashed again and again burned her hand with a hot dagger. When the armored woman let go, the weight of the shackles pulled the elf's hands down to the floor again hitting the stone with a thick loud clang. "I… Can't," the elf answered, her voice breaking, betraying her calm demeanor at the last second. The fire in the armored woman's eyes flared to new heights. "What do you mean you _can't_?"

"I don't know what that is, or how it got there."

"You're lying!" The armored woman lunged at the elf, gripping her shoulders in a vice, fingers threatening to tear through the rough textile of her armor and dig into her skin. Within a second the painful grip was gone. The hooded woman tore the armored one away. "We need her, Cassandra," the hooded woman stated. The elf detected a soft Orleisian accent in the hooded woman's throat, the words slipped on her tongue rather than rolling off f it. The hooded woman turned to face the prisoner, the hood masking the intention in her eyes. The elf bet that that was its purpose.

The elf's heart slowed from beating wildly to a pace just fast and hard enough to hear the beat in her ears. But her heart became heavy as she thought of all of the people she had seen inside the conclave: mages, templars, mercenaries, soldiers, men, women, even a few children. There were hundreds of people from all races and countries of Thedas at the Conclave. The very thought that so many people dying in an instant threatened to break her will to keep her tears in her eyes. She felt one slide down her cheek so she looked down at the floor and hid her face. "I can't believe it. All those people…" another tear dropped and a sob almost broke her speech; the elf had some trouble forcing the last word out knowing that when she said it, she acknowledged the fact that the world lost a great many good people, that they were- "Dead," she finished.

"Do you remember what happened? How this began?" the hooded woman asked. The young elf looked up, hoping in vain that the women in the room wouldn't be able to tell that a tear had run down her face. The elf thought hard, searching deep inside her mind for her most recent memories. She remembered darkness and that she was afraid; "I remember running," she started, "_things_ were chasing me and then… a woman?" The elf was having a hard time remembering anything else. She felt that as soon as she found something, just as she was starting to focus on anything she thought was fuzzy, something yanked it away from her mind, but the woman stayed in her mind. "A woman?" the hooded woman asked. "She reached out to me," the elf began focusing harder on the woman, "but then…" Like the other memories, what happened next was yanked away from her and she sighed in defeat.

The armored woman, Cassandra, walked toward the hooded woman and both put a little more distance between themselves and the imprisoned elf. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana," Cassandra turned to glance at the elf, defeat evident in her posture, "I will take her to the rift." With nothing but a silent nod, the hooded woman, Leliana, turned around and left, her boots not making a sound on the stone floors.

Immediately Cassandra went to work unlocking the elf from her shackles and replacing them with rope. There was one question that nagged at the prisoner. "What did happen?" she finally asked. Cassandra and the elf looked in each other eyes, Cassandra saw confusion and the elf saw something like pain, but not quite; something she couldn't use words to describe. Cassandra sighed as she pulled the elf to her feet. "It… will be easier to show you." Both Cassandra and the elf left the prison, neither saying a word.

They both exited the prison and the elf was surprised to see the inside of a Chantry. She had never heard of a prison under a Chantry. "Why does the Chantry have a prison?" the elf asked. "This Chantry, as well as all of Haven, used to be occupied by a cult guarding the Urn of Sacred Ashes. They were cleared out by the Hero of Ferelden when she came searching for the Urn and Brother Genetivi," Cassandra explained. The elf was also surprised to see the Chantry so dark, nothing but a few candles offering little light. The opening of a door brought the elf's attention back to following Cassandra. The elf thought she'd have to squint to keep the newfound light from burning her eyes but was surprised to see nothing but heavy overcast, an overcast that did not feel natural.

High in the sky a bright light erupted. She shielded her eyes as best she could, recoiling from the painful flash. Once she thought her eyes adjusted she risked taking a closer look at what had the power to cast a light as bright as the sun. What she saw shocked and confused her, but fear gripped her heart more than anything. There in the sky a hole sat, spewing sickening green light and energy. Rocks orbited the hole, drawn to it. Magic was clearly disrupting the area around it. "We call it the Breach." Surprised the elf broke her gaze from the hypnotic Breach. She was so lost in it the elf had forgotten about Cassandra. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour," Cassandra explained further, "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave." The elf wracked her brain for any knowledge she might have skimmed from "borrowing" her Keeper's notes, scrolls, and ancient texts that might rationalize how a hole into the Fade, or the Beyond as the Dalish called it, of that magnitude could happen. "An explosion can do that?" the elf thought out loud. "This one did," Cassandra answered. "Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

Suddenly, the Breach expanded again, letting out a sickening, bonebreaking snap and shook the sky and the ground beneath them. The elf screamed in pain as she felt the hot dagger being thrust into her palm again with a vengeance. She fell to her knees and cradled her hand as best she could. Cassandra got down to her level. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you." The elf watched Cassandra as she spoke, seeing pity in her eyes, something the elf did not expect seeing as how she was a prisoner suspected of killing hundreds and putting a hole to the Beyond in the sky. "It may be the key to stopping this," Cassandra continued, "but there isn't much time."

"You still think I did this- to myself?" the elf asked impatiently. The pain in her hand, the light pounding her eyes, the biting cold of the Frostback Mountains, and the accusations that she alone put a demon spewing hole in the sky tested her nerves. "Not intentionally," Cassandra responded, her voice had, or gave the illusion of having, more patience than the elf, "Something... Clearly went wrong."

"And if I'm not responsible?" Cassandra considered her words carefully. "Someone is, and you are our only suspect. You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way!" The elf furrowed her brow. She knew Cassandra's reasoning was logical, even if it was a bit brash. The elf had one more question to ask before she decided on anything, the most important question regarding the task she had been given: "You say it may be the key; to doing what?"

"Closing the Breach. Whether that is possible will be something that we discover shortly. It is our only chance however, and yours" The young elf thought hard, but she knew she had to think quick. The task described had an outcome that was uncertain at best, both in completing the task as well as what came afterward. Then she thought of the people who might be fighting the demons, the people who might be trapped out in the mountains surrounded, and the hundreds who have already died. "I understand."

"Then?" Cassandra looked into the elf's eyes and saw compassion and conviction. "I'll do what I can, whatever it takes." She had to admit, whatever the elf's connection, or lack of, to the Breach was, she admired her determination to set things right.

Cassandra caught herself and immediately distanced herself from the elf, something the elf did not notice. She was brought to her feet and led through the village of Haven. The village looked like a last minute military camp. Tents were pitched around houses, houses were used as infirmaries, and stores were used as warehouses. The feeling of a target on her back caused a panicked need to look around. Everywhere she looked the elf saw eyes of vengeance, eyes filled with hate and lust for justice. The elf had no doubt that Cassandra was the only thing keeping her alive at that moment. Cassandra noticed the prisoner looking around. "They have decided your guilt," Cassandra explained, "They need it." Elf saw an armored woman come out of her tent and lean against its main post, her arms crossed, her eyes weary, but she had enough energy to show the elf what she thought of her. Cassandra continued, her voice displaying her pain more openly. "The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers." The two had passed the main camp and now walked down a dirt road towards a stone arch framing large wooden doors. "It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead." A lightly armored man opened the wooden doors, the wood scratched at the dirt underneath it. Pass the doors the elf saw a stone bridge built over a ravine in the mountain to the dirt road on the other side. "We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves. As she did. Until the Breach is sealed." Cassandra held her hand in front of the elf, signaling her to stop. She then stepped forward and pulled out a small knife. The elf caught her breath and her heart started to race once again. Then Cassandra turned and cut the ropes and unbound the elf's hands. "There will be a trial," Cassandra assured her, "I can promise no more. Come. It is not far." The elf rubbed at her wrists. "Where are you taking me?" the elf asked, and caught up to Cassandra who had already walked halfway across the bridge. "Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach." The elf figured that Cassandra wasn't willing to answer anything that might give a prisoner ideas of how or when to escape so she decided not to waste her breath.

Looking around, the elf saw crates stacked and spread along the sides of the bridge and a group of men wearing similar leather armor with the same symbol on their chests. Now that she thought about it, a lot of the soldiers in Haven wore the same symbol on their armor no matter what type it was: an eye surrounded by flames pierced by a sword. It was not a symbol she recognized.

At the end of the bridge was another arch, its doors closed. "Open the gates! We are heading into the valley." At Cassandra's orders the soldiers stationed at the arch opened the large doors and both the elf and Cassandra passed through. It was the sight of piles of burning supplies that made them start running towards their destination. As they ran, they found more piles burning and they and they passed a group of soldiers. One was injured and was being carried by another, screaming that it was the end of the world. Over the hill, the flames were everywhere. Burning oak and maple filled their nostrils. The sky snapped and the Breach flared again and the pain in the elf's hand brought her to her knees and she fell to the ground. The pain was much worse than last time. Cassandra came back and helped the elf to her feet, the pain evident on the elf's face. When the elf looked at Cassandra, the light from the Breach behind her turned her body into a silhouette. "The pulses are coming faster now," Cassandra observed, "The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts that appear, the more demons we face."

"There's one thing that I don't understand: how did I survive a blast that put a hole in the sky?" the elf asked. Both passed though a familiar arch and onto a familiar bridge, one that had less soldiers but more crates. "They say you… _stepped_ out of a rift then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you; no one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley has been laid to waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You will see soon enough." Suddenly there was another flash but this flash didn't come from the Breach. Before either could react to the explosion, the bridge collapsed beneath their feet and they both fell to the frozen river below.

The elf counted herself lucky that none of the debris fell on top of her but her body ached and could tell that she had one or two broken ribs and a cut on her hairline. She searched for Cassandra and found her only a few feet away making her way to her feet. A sound, something like a whistle, drew the elf's attention to the sky. A ball of green fire came out of the Breach and fell to the world a couple yards away from where they fell. From the cloud of dust and debris rose a Shade. It's growl was a loud rumble in its throat. Where it stood, where feet should have been, there was nothing black smoke, nothing physical at all keeping the demon afloat.

Cassandra unsheathed her sword and readied her shield. "Stay behind me!" she ordered and took off to land the first blow. The elf got to her feet and looked around cautiously. About five feet from her a growling black cloud circled just above the ice. She knew what was coming, and she knew she couldn't take it out unarmed. The elf looked around frantically for anything that could be used to defend herself. Then she saw a bow rested up against a crate that had fallen with them along with a quiver full of arrows; she nearly missed it from her panic. She ran for them thanking the Creators or Maker or whatever god or gods that existed for her luck. Another Shade arose from the cloud, but she was ready. She felt the adrenaline race through her veins but she kept her mind calm. She knew she had to stay cool if she was going to survive the fight.

She was the first to attack. An arrow pierced the Shade's shoulder. It wasn't a fatal blow, but it did agitate the demon. It advanced. She smirked. She backtracked while letting loose arrow after arrow and the Shade got closer and closer. When it was close enough to attempt to lunge, she was ready. When the Shade raised its arms to grab her, she threw a smoke bomb to the ground. When the Shade lunged it grabbed nothing but air, exposing its back and that was all the elf needed. With a carefully placed arrow the demon went down for good leaving no body, just the arrows it had been shot with. The elf quickly grabbed and stored the arrows and got ready to help Cassandra. But there was no need. The elf caught site of Cassandra's fatal blow to the demon. Relieved that Cassandra was unharmed, the elf ran up to her. "It's over," the breathed. Then Cassandra raised her weapon to the elf and advanced towards her. "Drop your weapon," Cassandra ordered, "Now!"

"Alright!" the elf huffed, "Have it your way." She was agitated but did not see the point in wasting her breath arguing. "Wait," Cassandra sighed, interrupting elf before she could drop her bow. "I cannot protect you. And I cannot expect you to be defenseless," she admitted and sheathed her sword. She turned around, took a couple steps forward, then stood in place. Then she looked at the prisoner. "I should remember you agreed to come willingly." She closed the distance between her and elf and produced three small bottles containing sparkling red liquid and the elf recognized them as healing potions. "Take these potions. Maker knows what we will face," Cassandra claimed and turned to start moving forward with their mission.

Her clan didn't like it but they would sometimes have to do business with humans, or "shemlen" as they called them, when supplies were scarce. Truth be told, they didn't like doing business with anyone that didn't have pointed ears and Dalish tattoos, even disdaining elfs who lived in the human cities, calling them "flat ears". The discrimination based on appearances, the same thing that the Tevinter Imperium, and all of Thedas, still relies upon to function, the hypocrisy, was one of the things that drove a wedge between the elf and her clan. Allowing her to be unbound, allowing her to have a weapon, and being given potions to heal herself were the first signs of faith in her she'd seen in years.

"Dirthan," the elf said. Cassandra stopped and turned to face the elf, her confusion was evident. "What?" she asked. "My name is Dirthan." Cassandra visibly softened. "A pleasure, I think," she responded. With that, they both took off towards their goal once again.

"Where are all your soldiers?" Dirthan asked as they jogged towards their destination. "At the forward camp or fighting," Cassandra answered. "We are on our own for now." As they jogged across the frozen river and snow covered roads and hills, Dirthan flexed her hand trying in vain to rid herself of the piercing pain that lingered in her marked hand and the biting cold on her exposed skin. She hoped that it wouldn't harm her ability to aim the bow properly.

When they climbed to the top of a hill it suddenly ended with a cliff over looking more of the frozen river and two more demons, both Shades. Something caught Dirthan's eye, a small green flicker of light of in the distance. It was just bright enough that a sharp eye could spot it. "There," Cassandra pointed at the Shades with her sword as she readied her shield, interrupting Dirthan as she was trying to figure out what it was that she was seeing , "Watch out! If we flank them we may gain the advantage," she pointed out. Bow readied, Dirthan devised a plan. "Cassandra, draw their attention. I'll lay cover fire from here." Cassandra moved without hesitation and Dirthan landed the first blow to the demons. The shivering in her hand made it difficult to aim the bow at first, but the adrenaline returned and the cold disappeared. She let loose the arrow and it landed a devastating blow to the Shade. The shock of a surprise attack stunned it for a few precious seconds. When it turned to locate the source of the arrow, Cassandra cut it down from behind. When Cassandra finished off the Shade, the other came up behind her. When the other Shade moved to lunge at Cassandra, Dirthan let loose arrow after arrow on the demon like a hailstorm, all landing in vital spots. Soon the Shade dissipated into a pile of ash and arrows. Cassandra collected the arrows as Dirthan made her way down the hill and gave them to her as she approached.

The two advanced again down the frozen river and it wasn't long until they stumbled upon more demons. A familiar green light caught Dirthan's eye agains. It was up past a nearby stone staircase and some yards away. Now that they were closer, Dirthan could make out something that looked like the figure of a person surrounded by the same green light. Suddenly the light got bigger and whizzed passed her head and she heard the flame fizzle out on the ice behind her. She corrected herself as she readied herself for battle once again. That light didn't get bigger, it got closer, and it did it pretty damn fast. "There, up on the hill. It attacks from a distance," Cassandra explained as she observed the immediate area more closely. "Yeah, I got that. Thanks," Dirthan shot through clenched teeth. Cassandra spotted another Shade lurking in the shadow of a nearby tree, its dark silhouette stood stark against the snowy background. Cassandra felt its bloodlust. "You focus on the Wraith up the hill. I'll handle the Shade down here," Cassandra ordered. "Splitting up and playing the field by our strengths," Dirthan thought, "seems to be our only option right now." It was either focus on one demon and risk one of them falling to the other or take them both on one-on-one and divide the demons in their attempt to kill them both. Dirthan ran up the hill and Cassandra charged at the Shade.

Dirthan let loose arrow after arrow at the Wraith and the Wraith threw balls of spirit fire in return. While Dirthan felt like she could dodge the spirit fire all day, all of the leaping and tumbling made it hard to hit her target at her current distance. She had to risk getting closer. She changed from dodging side to side to rolling underneath the flight path of the spirit fire. A risky strategy, but in the spur of the moment it was the only one that seemed logical. Closer and closer she came to the Wraith and the time gap between the bursts of fire became shorter and shorter and the strategy got riskier and riskier as she felt the spirit fire singe her skin and armor. If there was ever a time to start firing, it was now. Dirthan pulled the string much farther than normal, storing more power for its release. After rolling under another burst of spirit fire she let it loose. When Dirthan let loose her arrow, the Wraith hurled one last burst of fire before it fell to the powerful arrow which blew Dirthan back several feet. Spirit fire had no heat, but it burned like any fire, burning her armor and skin.

She let out pained moans as she worked her way back to her feet then took stock of her wounds. Turns out it wasn't as bad as it had felt. While spirit fire did indeed feel hot and in its own nature could be classified as fire, it was something that came from from the Fade, or behaved like it. While not a mage, Dirthan, as well as the rest of her clan, are taught the basics on understanding magic and the Beyond, something most Thedosians don't even think about. She expected the spirit fire to be hot, very hot, so it was. It didn't surprise Dirthan that the laws of the Beyond were leaking into the physical world seeing as how they were pretty much right under the biggest hole in the Veil in recorded history and no doubt thinned from the massive amount of death and suffering from the blast.

Remembering Cassandra, Dirthan turned to see her running up the steps of the stone staircase looking like she had suffered more cosmetic damage to her armor than anything serious. Only a cut on her cheek showed that there had been an actual fight. In comparison, Dirthan looked more beaten up than her escort by sporting singed armor and a heavy coat of wet snow and dirt despite only having a few minor burns that can easily be treated with ointment. Both decided that neither's wounds warranted a health potion and moved on advancing through stone covered hills and more of the frozen river.

Green lightning struck the frozen lake just a few feet away from them. Cassandra let out a surprised cry while both she and Dirthan stumbled backwards. From the lighting strike rose two more Wraiths. "They're falling from the Breach," Dirthan examined under her breath. Dirthan acted quickly and threw a smoke bomb at the two Wraiths to hinder their visibility. Cassandra immediately entered the cloud of smoke, earning an eyeroll from Dirthan who decided it best to attack a Wraith if it exited the smoke cloud and not risk blindly shooting and hitting Cassandra. After seconds of spirit fire being hurled in random directions and the woosh of Cassandra's sword echoing through the air, a Wraith finally emerged. Dirthan's focus deepened and she let loose another hail of arrows, none of them missed their mark though it took far more arrows than she'd expected. The smoke dissipated and Cassandra emerged victorious. Dirthan decided to say nothing of Cassandra's rashness seeing as everything turned out okay.

"Behind you!" Cassandra shouted, but it was too late. Dirthan felt talons rake across her back, her back felt like it was on fire and blood soaked her mercenary jacket. She tumbled and rolled away from whatever attacked her, the gashes in her back protested the whole time, and stopped when she heard Cassandra fighting. A Shade had fallen from the Breach as well, no doubt hiding and waiting for a chance to land a sneak attack. With her wounds stinging and burning at her, Dirthan raised her bow and joined the fight, landing blows whenever she saw an opening. The Shade soon went down and Dirthan took the opportunity to down a potion choosing not to wait for some other demons to get the drop on them while she was injured. The burning on her back was replaced by a soft warmth that radiated throughout her entire body and a sigh of relief escaped her lips. No doubt there would be scars. Potions couldn't erase damage done to the body, only heal it.

Dirthan was suddenly and roughly turned around by Cassandra causing the empty bottle to escape Dirthan's hands and shatter upon the ice. She couldn't tell the difference between the ice and the glass. Then she felt the firm grasp on her shoulders leave and saw Cassandra move on. "What was that for?" Dirthan asked as she collected her arrows. "Only to check your wounds," Cassandra explained. "I'm an elf, not glass." Cassandra only rolled her eyes.

Passing between two stone pillars topped with fire, the two ascended a staircase. The two heard growls, roars, the clashing of iron and steel, the twang of something Dirthan couldn't make out, and the casting of spells from somewhere close by. "We're getting close to the Rift. You can hear the fighting," Cassandra observed, quickening her pace. "Who's fighting?" Dirthan asked, following Cassandra's lead and readied her bow once again. "You'll see soon. We must help them."

When they reached the top of the staircase, they turned and saw a battle ensuing in front of a Rift into the Fade in a ruin just passed the entrance of another collapsed bridge. Where a small wooden staircase had been to allow access to the bridge entrance from the ruin where the battle ensued was a pile of splintered and broken wood, damaged beyond repair. Without hesitation, both Dirthan and Cassandra jumped down the eight-foot ledge and joined the fight. A Shade had been turned to ice and Dirthan immediately shattered it with a well drawn shot. Cassandra moved to protect a dwarf shooting off arrows with a large crossbow. Both Dirthan and the dwarf showered a Wraith with arrows. Dirthan caught something out of the corner of her eye and shot down a Shade with one well placed arrow to the face behind another elf wielding a staff. Dirthan felt her mark thrumming as the nearby Rift pulsed with every defeated demon. The Rift roared like thunder in her ears and lit the battlefield with the same sickening green glow as the Breach.

At last there was only one demon left, and it was quickly taken care of by the dwarf wielding the crossbow. Dirthan's hand was suddenly grabbed by large cold hands. When she turned to look, it was the elven mage that she had saved from being attacked from behind. "Quickly," he shouted, "before more come through!" The elven man thrust her marked hand toward the Rift and something both amazing and frightening happened: the mark on Dirthan's hand and the Rift became connected by a stream of green light. The the rip in the veil suddenly turned into a knot of energy, the Fade desperately leaking through until the knot collapsed in on itself and the Rift disappeared. When the stream of light suddenly vanished, the hit dagger returned again for a split second, causing the Dirthan to pull away from the elven man's grasp roughly. She looked back where the Rift had been and was amazed to see it gone. "What did you do?" Dirthan asked the elven man. "_I _did nothing. The credit is yours," he admitted, gesturing to her. Surprise was evident on her face as she observed her palm. "At least this is good for something," she noted solemnly, her brow furrowing. The mark glowed slightly, once again addressing itself. "Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand," the elven man continued, "I theorized the mark might be able to close the Rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake- and it seems I was correct." That last bit of wit brought a smirk to Dirthan's face. She took the chance to note the man's features. Like all elves he had a slim frame, standing about a head taller than her. He wore worn dull green trousers but no shoes, a practice common among the Dalish though the lack of Vallasline objected that he not was Dalish at all, a ragged hand-stitched vest held tightly to him by a leather belt over a simple grey tunic and a necklace made of twine and half of a jaw bone. His pack made it obvious he traveled a lot if not all his life. And like any mage, he carried a staff. He looked like he was wearing everything he owned. His face was long and thin, he eyes were a soft grey, and had no hair to speak of. Despite his ragged appearance, his posture was dignified and his mannerisms felt as if they were carefully considered. Cassandra entered the conversation both physically and verbally, "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

"Possibly," the elven man addressed Cassandra, then turned to Dirthan, his fiddling with his fingers as he addressed the present company gave signs of an introverted personality. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation." Dirthan wasn't so sure she liked the sound of that. "Good to know!" the dwarf joined in, "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." Dirthan observed the dwarfs features as well. Like all dwarves, they were at least half the height of human and elves. He had dirty blond hair, part of it tied up into a short pony tail. He had a thick, square jaw, pierced ears, dark grey eyes, and a scar running across his nose, but he lacked a big burly beard, something all male dwarves had. He wore an open red, silver rimmed tunic, exposing a toned, hairy chest, under a heavily layered longcoat and wore rough studded trousers, and leather gloves and boots. "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong," he introduced himself, giving Cassandra a wink and got a glare from her in return. "Are you with the Chantry, or…?" Dirthan asked.

The elven man chuckled. "Was that a serious question?" Dirthan couldn't come up with any reason why her question warranted that kind of a response. "Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you," Varric explained. "I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine," Cassandra corrected. "Clearly that is no longer necessary."

"Yet, here I am Lucky for you, considering current events."

"It's good to meet you Varric." Before Dirthan could offer her name, she heard the elven man chuckle again. "You may reconsider that stance, in time," he commented, his tone making it clear there was no offense in his intentions. "Aww," Varric crooned, "I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles."

"Absolutely not," Cassandra interrupted, approaching Varric. She let out her frustration with a huff and considered her words more carefully. "Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me." Varric gave her his best charming smile which only earned him a disgusted groan from Cassandra as she quickly put distance between herself and Varric. The elven man approached Dirthan once again. "I am Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live." That last comment resulted in a confused lift of her brow. "He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'" Dirthan had so many questions, but remembered her manners. "I am Dirthan. If I may say so, you seem to know a great deal about it all," she commented. "Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters," Cassandra explained. "Technically all mages are apostates, Cassandra," Solas corrected, "My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."

"And what will you do once this is over?" Dirthan asked.

"One hopes those in power will remember who helped and those who did not."

He turned his attention to Cassandra. "Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power."

"Understood," Cassandra sighed. Dirthan got the impression that she was disappointed. "We must get to the forward camp quickly." Both Solas and Cassandra took off, leaving Dirthan and Varric behind. "Well, Bianca's excited!" Varric quipped and joined the others. Dirthan stood there dumbfounded. "Who's Bianca?" she thought.


End file.
